Together Banished #1

>It has been merely two months since your banishment into this fallow wilderness.
>A near endless badland, rich with hoodoos, gullies and dry shrubberies. A world that only appears to exist for those condemned to its ruination.
>Where creatures only strive for survival, after all, what other purpose than to live do they have whilst stood on such lifeless soil?
>Conatus. That is will, ordain of any sentient creature. It is the concept that pushed you through the ordeals of your arrival to this crazy land; it is the sensation that continued to motivate you even now.
>Honestly, you can’t even recall the exact details of how you wound up into this world to begin with.
>All you remember is that you found yourself in this land of 'Equestria'.
>You were branded immediately as a ‘Sorcerer’ by the bizarre talking animals in this land, which consequentially lead to mass hysteria and eventually your ‘banishment’.
>Honestly, it was all a blur, perhaps it is all still registering for you. Either way, you were recognised as an enemy for this world and have rightly been punished...at least in THEIR view.
>It’s also because of them you’ve not opted to avoid going near anything remotely promising civilisation, it’s why you stay in this hellhole of a desert, struggling to survive.
>Straightening out your confusion and anger, you focus at the task at hand: hunting. Food has become increasingly scarce, as of now it is your largest dilemma.
>You’d only gotten lucky by encountering a band of belligerent, bipedal canines, whom you promptly stole both their shelter and food, all under the ‘Sorcerer’ notoriety. That and you had your gun.
>Of course, they weren’t genuinely frightened of you until you pocketed one of their eyes with a square shot through the skull.
>The necessity of that murder never seems to give any confidence in convincing your conscience.
>You finally begin to climb up a steep row of rocks in order to survey the surroundings ahead. After a few strains through scaling, you manage to reach the tip of a large cliff.
>Beyond is naught but the deathly red expanse. A monotonous sight that never diversifies-
>...yet you spot a set of anomalies amongst the thick, crimson glaze. They are black silhouettes, lifeless and unmoving. All of them far too shapely to be rocks, you render them more like the body of creatures
>Carcasses perhaps? Fresh meat...hopefully?
>Shrugging off a heavy deal of aversion, you begin a gradual descend from the vantage point. It is a meticulous climb, that with great fortune you manage to execute without any fatal mistakes.

>Making a definite beeline towards the figurations, it isn’t long before you are finally able to discern what these shapes truly were.
>They were indeed corpses as you had speculated, a mixture of reptilian monsters and...beetle-esque, miniature horses?
>Horse isn’t the right word...pony?
>By their bloodied bodies and by which each corpse seems centralised, distancing each other to make a rather crude circle, these creatures clearly fought over something.
>Yet none of them alive and by the fact you still stand here breathing, nothing appears to have won this battle either. What on Earth happened?
>You decide to examine the corpses a little further, on closer inspection, these equines with near thistle like horns and protrusions around their bodies, also own a very good set of sharp teeth.
>The corpses of the reptiles on the other hand, were definitely less in numbers. Their size and muscle mass definitely outmatches their theorised, deceased opponents here.
>Either way, it is the first time you’ve ever seen large, obvious predators. Frankly, you’re glad they tore each other apart instead of actively hunting others like yourself.

>As you were about to examine further, your investigation is interrupted by an alarming sound, a loud wheeze.
>You nearly leap out of your skin, immediately you whip out your pistol and veer it towards the noise.
>There, in the center of these corpses, is another body. From it, another rough wheeze emanates.
>Your trigger-finger twitches uncontrollably, a cold wave of fear sweeps from head to toe. But instead of shooting, you find yourself approaching the body instead.
>You can’t even your feet make progress, nor can you even hear yourself think. It is all smothered by the frantic, desperate pounding of your heart.
>It appears to be another one of those insect ponies. Yet it is notably larger and visibly...breathing.
>Its chest rises awkwardly, finishing with the all too familiar wheeze that startled you earlier.
>A few feet away from the body, you slowly revolve to get a better angle. Your gun dead bolted towards the creature.
>Merciful Christ.
>Cuts, bruises...even BURNS cover a sizable amount of the animal’s body, lacerations of different sizes and shapes rift along its hide. Its wings, far larger and striking than its deceased kin are both bent and broken, far past reasonable repair.
>Instead of questioning what CAUSED these wounds, you find it more enthralling on how it managed to stay alive with such damage.
>It’s mane and tail, a slightly caesious, illustrious shade of turquoise, is strangely enough hardly dirtied despite its unsightly condition. It is from that observation you then notice the petite crown verging dominantly on its head.
>It’s correlation with the deceased insect animals is clear, it is a superior, a leader...a monarch of sorts. Perhaps a queen? Whom they defended to their very last with endless loyalty; something they achieved until your arrival.

>She will die like this.
>You blink and suddenly feel your trigger finger relapsing. Woah ho, there buddy, she’s dying anyway. You’re finishing her off for food; she is the only thing still not decaying.
>After all, this is another lucky break for you isn’t it? Fortune smiles for a reason, it’s because luck wants you to find your way out of this mess and back home. Fate is literally delivering another crate of supplies for your survival right here.
>Your ambivalence is interrupted, again by another irresolute, dwindling exhale of her stubborn will. Nobody should survive wounds like that, yet there she is, clinging onto that last stretch of endurance.
>The muscles in your arm grow limp, your pistol flops to your hip sluggishly. You’re an idiot and you know full well of the stupidity of what you’re about to do.
>Pocketing your gun, you pull up the sleeves of your shirt. You begin to adjust her poise, moving her legs into more symmetrical positions, as well as rolling her onto her opposite side.
>Each movement causes her breathing to spike in activity, her face contorts in pain to each adjustment.
>Sighing, you brace yourself for the most fatiguing task you may face yet.
>After buckling downwards, you proceed in lifting her gently from her flank and back, making her gradually ascend from the ground and over your shoulders.
>You ensure not to lock or press against any of her dangling arms, having her forearms dangle in front of you, her elbows pressing against your shoulders, with her back hanging loosely behind you.
>Of course, to solidify your grip, you’re forced to hold onto her posterior. The sensation of her body is...uniquely smooth, to say the least.
>It’s best you not even go into detail about her smell.
>Despite the uncomfortable posture of your arms, you manage to pull off an improvised piggy-back ride and even with unconscious protests of pain she quietens down once you sort out your equilibrium.
>Surprisingly, she isn’t too heavy. Either that or you’ve become physically stronger in these two months, which you struggle to find feasible.
>Taking a deep breath, you start your journey back towards “your” cave. Patching her up with some of the crude medical supplies you’d plundered was going to be the next issue.
>You just made hell a lot harder for yourself, Anon.